


Flipped

by KCKenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix-It, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCKenobi/pseuds/KCKenobi
Summary: The second-worst day of Anakin Skywalker’s life is about to get infinitely worse.Palpatine’s a Sith Lord. Master Windu is off to destroy him. And Padmé,Padmé—But then Cody arrives with a de-aged Obi-Wan—a terrified 12-year-old whose last memory is being sent to the AgriCorps. Anakin doesn’t know what to make of this little kid who claims to be Obi-Wan Kenobi, who steals speeders for joyrides and isn’t being trained by Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to make of this strange Master Skywalker, who swears and gushes about starships and can’t seem to sit still.Anakin knows a lot can happen in 24 hours—but this is just a new level of ridiculous.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 67
Kudos: 677
Collections: 2020 Obi-Wan Kenobi Gen Exchange





	Flipped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaiKusakabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiKusakabe/gifts).



> For the 2020 Kenobi Gen Fic Exchange

The second-worst day of Anakin Skywalker’s life was about to get infinitely worse.

He tore through the halls of the Jedi Temple, his usually sturdy legs barely holding him up. Trembling, gasping for air, he didn’t even notice the stares of Jedi and Padawans and younglings who stared as he bolted past. None of them mattered.

Obi-Wan. He needed to find Obi-Wan.

_Chancellor Palpatine…a Sith Lord. THE_ _Sith Lord. All these years…all this time… He’s been my mentor. My friend. And now…_

He needed to talk to Obi-Wan. Now. He’d know what to do. He always did.

“Skywalker?”

Anakin burst into the comm center. The moment he lost momentum, he slumped sideways and clung to the doorframe like a crutch. _A Sith Lord…a Sith Lord…_

“Skywalker.”

Mace Windu’s strong voice repeated his name. He focused on the sound—an anchor. His vision swam before his eyes, but he felt Master Windu appear at his side.

“Are you hurt? You’re trembling.”

Anakin couldn’t even find the strength to shake his head. “I need Obi-Wan. I need…I need to—”

“Obi-Wan is on his way to Utapau to engage Grievous. We’ve…lost contact with his vessel, but…”

“Then listen to me.” Anakin grabbed Master Windu’s arm and leaned, practically sinking into him, voice deadly grave and increasingly desperate. “You have to listen. You can’t…you have to…he has to stay alive.”

“Obi-Wan? Master Kenobi will be fine—”

“ _No._ ” Anakin sunk forward, and Windu staggered. “No. I…”

 _It's a Sith legend,_ Palpatine had said, nearly whispered. _Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise…_

Anakin stared at his prosthetic hand, which gripped Master Windu’s forearm so tightly it would likely bruise. _I have to tell him. I have to._

_But…_

She flooded his mind—Padmé, braiding her hair in front of their bedroom mirror, smiling at him over her shoulder. Padmé, her face lighting up as she first felt their baby kick inside her. Padmé in the Senate. Padmé in the fields of Naboo. Padmé, Padmé, Padmé… She was everywhere, around him, within him, flowing through his veins as abundantly as the midichlorians.

And he was going to lose her.

Master Windu was staring at him, mouth moving as though to speak, but Anakin heard nothing. He was vaguely aware he might be crying.

And in his mind, Palpatine smiled.

_…he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying._

“I have…bad news,” Anakin heard himself say.

And then the words poured out, words that could damn him, could damn his wife:

“Palpatine…he’s Sidious. The Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”

Anakin felt the truth rip into his heart and grab his last shreds of hope, leaving a gaping hole in his middle, and for a moment there was nothing. Windu’s eyes were vacant—his own were undoubtedly worse.

_I’ve doomed her. I’ve doomed her. I’ve—_

“Wait in the Council Chamber until we return.”

Anakin’s eyes snapped back up.

“What?”

“I said wait. If what you’ve told me is true—”

_“General Windu!”_

The voice that pierced the room belonged to neither Jedi. Anakin steadied himself against the doorframe, releasing Windu’s arm, and both whirled around to face the corridor.

Approaching the comm center from the hall, dressed in pristine GAR armor was…Cody?

“General Windu,” he breathed. “General Skywalker. We have a…bit of a situation.”

“Commander,” Master Windu said. He moved past Anakin, whose vision still swam as he turned. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the tracks of tears there, and tried to calm himself. Forget Palpatine, forget Padmé…at least for a moment. Because if Cody was here…

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” he and Windu said in unison.

Cody grimaced. “Permission to speak freely, sirs.”

“Why are you not on Utapau?” Windu said in leu of answering. “And where in the galaxy is your general?”

“Erm…General Kenobi?”

Cody directed the words over his shoulder and took a step to the side. Anakin and Windu’s eyes dropped as the figure behind him became visible—a boy, with a tiny lightsaber clipped to his belt and a mildly concerned look on his face, stared back at them.

A boy whose presence in the Force felt strikingly familiar.

“Master Windu,” he said, bowing slightly. The boy’s eyes skimmed over Anakin wordlessly, and he nodded in greeting. “I…I don’t know what’s happened.”

Master Windu’s face betrayed him in slight—his eyes narrowed, then widened, then threatened to pop out of his head altogether.

And at the exact same moment he made the realization, Anakin surged forward and grabbed the boy’s face in his hands.

“ _Obi-Wan?”_ he breathed. “What in the kriffing nine Corellian hells…”

Little Obi-Wan, whose cheeks were currently smooshed between Anakin’s palms, looked mildly uncomfortable as he shot Master Windu a desperate look.

“I…I’m not sure,” he said. His voice was higher-pitched, cracking a little on the last word. He cleared his throat. “I was on my way to the AgriCorps on Bandomeer, when—”

“Hold on,” Anakin interrupted. “The _AgriCorps_?”

“Obi-Wan,” Master Windu said, gently knocking Anakin’s hands away from the boy. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.” He rubbed at his face in the place where Anakin’s hands had been, still eyeing him warily. “Thirteen in four weeks.”

Both Jedi and Commander Cody stared at him.

“Thirteen in four weeks,” Master Windu murmured under his breath. “What in the name of…?”

“It happened on the way to Utapau, sirs,” Cody said. “There was some sort of blackout on the bridge, and the next thing we knew…”

“Alright,” Master Windu said, shaking his head without relent. His eyes were distant, as if seeing something the others didn’t—shatterpoints, perhaps, as Anakin had heard the rumors of Windu’s distinct power. “Alright. Skywalker…we don’t have time to deal with this now. Not with…” He eyed Cody and little Obi-Wan. “Not with the information you’ve just given me.”

“What are we supposed to—”

“We’re supposed to follow orders,” Windu said. “And _your_ orders, as you may recall, are to wait in the Council Chamber. Take Mast—take Initiate Kenobi with you.” He pulled his robes tighter around himself. “We’ll handle this when I return.”

“But Master Windu…”

Anakin’s head felt like it could combust—visions of Palpatine and Padmé and Obi-Wan danced before his eyes, until he was dizzy again and the world threatened to fade to black. But then Master Windu was striding away, and Cody was saluting and following him, and then there was no one.

No one except Anakin, and his incredulously, impossibly, twelve-year-old master.

“Um, Master…?” the boy said hesitantly. “You don’t look well. Perhaps we should…”

The boy— _Obi-Wan_ , Anakin’s brain reminded him—was suddenly at his side, taking his arm as Anakin started to sway on his feet. He found himself sinking to the floor, falling back against the doorframe and using it to slide to his butt. He tried to breathe, to silence the monster inside that was threatening to climb out, the monster of fear that had plagued him all his life.

But the boy crouched next to him and still held his arm—another anchor to the present, to the light. His eyes were piercing—the exact blue that Anakin remembered, though perhaps a bit less wise now—and they were filled with compassion and concern. Anakin swallowed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“What _happened_ to you, Master?”

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, as if searching for someone. “Master Windu’s gone, sir, if that’s who you mean.”

“No, I mean…” His voice trailed off with the realization. “You don’t remember anything? You don’t even…do you know who I am?”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment before shaking his head. “Should I?”

“I…I guess not. Kriff,” Anakin murmured. “ _Kriff.”_

To his surprise, Obi-Wan smiled a little.

“What?” Anakin snapped.

“Nothing,” the boy said quickly. But when Anakin kept waiting, he shrugged, looking almost as though he were stifling a giggle. “I just…I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a Jedi…um, _swear_ before, sir.”

Anakin’s jaw fell open. If not for the knowledge that his entire world was in the process of falling apart at the seams, he might’ve laughed himself.

“Yeah, well,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll find I’m not like most Jedi, I think.” With that, he extended a sweaty, limp hand. “I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, taking his hand and shaking it.

And, just as it had on Tatooine twelve years prior, the Force thrummed.

“Well,” Anakin said, pushing himself shakily to his feet. “I suppose we should do as Windu says, and follow orders.”

Obi-Wan nodded, offering Anakin his arm. _Bless him_ , Anakin thought in spite of himself. Because even though the galaxy was falling to pieces, Obi-Wan was still Obi-Wan—compassionate and centered and always, always kind.

The moment they entered the Council Chamber, Anakin went straight to the window. He could see Padmé’s apartment from here, across the airlanes of Coruscant’s teeming skies, and could almost feel her staring back. He longed for her. He _ached_ for her, for their child, for the happiness he could nearly reach out and touch. Happiness that would be taken from him, if he couldn’t go to Palpatine, couldn’t learn the power he spoke of…

“Have I done something to upset you, Master Skywalker?”

Anakin turned. Obi-Wan was still standing up in spite of the room full of chairs—deferential, Anakin realized, and following the lead of the person with the highest rank: him. He almost wanted to laugh.

“No. I…no. I’m just worried about someone,” he said softly. Then, thinking of the boy before him, of the baby his wife carried, of the mentor across the city in the Senate’s high offices, he sighed. “A lot of people, actually.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment before answering. “Master Yoda says that worry is a secondary emotion,” he said at last. “That it stems from love, just as anger stems from fear—”

“Right, and what would you know about love, Obi-Wan? Or anger, for that matter?”

Anakin didn’t mean to snap, but then the words were out there, and it was done. And suddenly, the urge to leave was too much—he had to go. He had to follow Windu, to make sure Palpatine lived, to make sure _Padmé_ lived…

He was hallway across the chamber when Obi-Wan replied.

“Quite a bit, actually,” he said, his voice pushing through the cloud of darkness that swamped Anakin’s mind. “They don’t send people to the AgriCorps for good behavior, you know.”

The slight humor in the boy’s voice—the familiarity of it—made Anakin stop. A stride away from the door, he turned slowly.

“Is that…really true?” he said. “They were gonna send you to the AgriCorps?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. He held eye contact, but Anakin could see the discomfort in his face that suggested he would rather look away.

“It’s…a respectable way to spend your life. I’m honored to serve the galaxy in whatever way I can,” he said—a standard Obi-Wan answer, though the words felt a little stiff. “And besides, someone who gives into anger so easily probably doesn’t deserve to be trained as a Jedi Knight.”

The dejection in his master’s voice shocked Anakin almost as much as the admission itself.

“What do you mean?”

At that, Obi-Wan reddened a little. “Oh. I thought by now everyone in the Temple had heard.” He finally looked away, eyes tracing the laces of his shoes. “I’ll be thirteen in a few weeks, but they sent me away early because I got in a fight with Bruck. And then I blew my only shot at redeeming myself by fighting with him _again_.” He looked up then, but only to scan the Council Chamber’s marble walls. “I didn’t expect to ever see this place again…”

Obi-Wan kept talking, but Anakin hardly registered the words—he was too incredulous of what he’d just heard. Obi-Wan, giving in to anger? Getting into fights with other Initiates? That didn’t line up at all with the Obi-Wan he knew. With the one he figured Obi-Wan had always been.

But here he was, in the flesh, standing before him with skinny legs and awkwardly large feet and a nose spattered with freckles—an Obi-Wan who wasn’t the perfect Jedi. Who was impulsive. Let anger rule him. Who seemed, much to Anakin’s surprise, a lot like Anakin himself.

The betrayal of Palpatine momentarily forgotten, Anakin sank down into one of the Councilors’ chairs. “I never expected that of you.”

Obi-Wan reddened further. “Really? Master Yoda says anger is my biggest weakness. Everyone can see it,” he said. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before it got the best of me.”

He followed Anakin’s lead and sat. If he’d felt a little more cheerful, Anakin might’ve smirked at the realization that Obi-Wan had inadvertently chosen the very seat he usually occupied on the Council. He was too small for it now, his feet dangling a few centimeters above the ground.

“Hey,” Anakin found himself saying, surprised at the softness in his own voice. “Our weaknesses might get the best of us sometimes. But that doesn’t mean they rule us. It doesn’t mean they define us.” He exhaled, and his chest rattled as the air snaked out. “We fall, we make mistakes. Every one of us. And even if those mistakes have dire consequences, it doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of changing. Of growing beyond them.”

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, and Anakin balked as he noticed that he’d borrowed that little speech from someone else—from _Obi-Wan_ , in the early days of his apprenticeship. Anakin had yelled at a fellow Padawan after a duel, and the supervising master had not-so-kindly let him know that his weaknesses were so garish, they almost outweighed his strengths. When Anakin had come back to their quarters on the verge of tears, Obi-Wan had cleaned him up and made him tea and smiled and said, “We are more than what we do. All of us.”

Anakin had nodded, yet felt the tears burn his eyes even more intensely.

“Apologize to the young lady,” Obi-Wan had continued. “But then, you must forgive yourself, too. Strive to grow. This is what it is to be a Jedi, don’t you remember? We are not saints…” Obi-Wan smirked at that line—for Anakin certainly was no saint. “…but seekers.” With warmth in his eyes, he ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Make certain you never forget to keep seeking.”

Anakin shook his head at the memory. In the years since, Anakin had made countless mistakes. His impulsivity had cost the lives of squadrons on the battlefield. His hesitancy had cost him his mother, his anger nearly cost him Obi-Wan, and now his naivety about the Chancellor’s true identity had nearly cost the entire Republic. And Force knew what mistakes Anakin would make in the future—as a Jedi, as a father, as a person.

But perhaps, as Obi-Wan had insisted all those years ago, that was how it went. You live, you fail, you get up and you try again. You grow. And you never stop growing.

And as he stared at Obi-Wan now, at this little boy whose eyes were so bright and his hands so tiny and his future so uncertain, emotion overwhelmed him for what felt like the millionth time today. _Obi-Wan_ had taught him that. How could he not remember? How could he not have been Master Qui-Gon’s apprentice, have learned and grown before he’d met Anakin all those years ago on Tatooine?

And most of all, how could he not have trained Anakin? Taught him everything he now knew, raised him and reared him toward the light? How could he not have become Anakin Skywalker’s best friend?

For a while neither of them spoke. Anakin waded through memories, of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and Padmé and all of the people responsible for where he was now. And then, the thought occurred to him: if Obi-Wan was on his way to the AgriCorps…

“What about Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan turned to look at him, and in the setting sun of Coruscant, his auburn hair seemed to burn like fire—gone was the muted color, streaked with gray at the temples.

“Master Jinn?” he said, then shrugged. “He was on my transport to Bandomeer for a mission. But he doesn’t want anything to do with me. He saw me duel Bruck, saw the anger inside me.” He swallowed. “That was all he needed to know.”

“But he has to train you,” Anakin said, disbelieving. “That’s just…he _has_ to.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his vehemence. “I would have…certainly liked that,” he said guardedly. “But it wasn’t the will of the Force.”

Anakin shook his head, struggling to understand. Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted Obi-Wan? How could that be?

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Where is he now? Did he get transported to another ship, too?”

Anakin’s eyes burned at the awfulness of it all. _He has no idea…all those memories… How am I supposed to tell him?_

So he shook his head. “No. No, he wasn’t transported to another ship.”

He didn’t elaborate. Obi-Wan, thankfully, seemed unwilling to pry.

But he looked pensive.

“Can I ask you something, Master Skywalker?” he said at last.

Anakin blinked at the sound of such a formal epithet on Obi-Wan’s lips, but nodded.

“The Force…it feels so dark. Everything is clouded. It wasn’t like this on the way to Bandomeer. But then I woke up on that other ship, surrounded by all those men…are they twins? The ones who kept calling me ‘general?’” Obi-Wan said. When Anakin didn’t know how to answer, he continued. “Anyway, it…it feels…”

“Unbalanced?” Anakin finished, and the stupid Chosen One prophesy popped into his head unbidden.

Obi-Wan nodded.

Sighing, Anakin briefly considered his options. As far as Obi-Wan knew, some fluke had transported him from one ship to another. He didn’t know that he was supposed to be 37 years old, that over twenty years had gone by since he was an Initiate, and Anakin wasn’t certain he was prepared to deal with the consequences of telling Obi-Wan all of that right this second. Maybe later, once he knew for sure that the Chancellor was…that Padmé was…

_I have the power to save the one you love._

Anakin shook the voice from his head. “Master Windu is on his way to handle it now. There was…a surge in the dark side of the Force,” he said. “It will be better when he returns.”

_It has to,_ Anakin thought.

“You seem uncertain,” Obi-Wan said, then bit his lip and hastily added, “Master.”

But Anakin didn’t flinch. “I am,” he said, then realized he didn’t exactly know what else to say. “I just…I have to believe it will work out. Like a…a mentor of mine once said, ‘there’s no such thing as luck.’ And so whatever happens…like you said, it’s the will of the Force.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Your mentor sounds wise.”

“He was. _Is,_ ” Anakin said, mind swimming with the irony of it all. “Obi-Wan…have you ever needed to do something so hard, so big, that you weren’t sure if you could?”

Obi-Wan looked taken aback by the question, and conflict flashed across his eyes as though he wondered if this were some kind of test.

“Yes, I…I suppose,” he said, swallowing. “Last year, I was trying to help some younger initiates with their piloting skills, ‘cause I’m going to—I _was_ going to make piloting one of my specialty skills if I was a Padawan.” Anakin remembered the red band on Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid when they’d first met and realized that he had, in fact, done just that. “But when we were up in the air, the engine misfired, and we started to go down. I didn’t know if I could manage it, but I levitated the whole ship down to the ground with the Force. It was hard. But I did it.” Obi-Wan fiddling with the fabric of his tunic. “Is that what you mean?”

In spite of everything, Anakin had to smile a little. He noticed, suddenly, that the Force felt lighter.

“Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Of course, it helped that the ship was only a J-type star skiff,” he said. “Small and light enough that I could maneuver us alone—”

Anakin’s mouth fell open. “A J-type star skiff? How’d you get your hands on one of those?”

Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like Obi-Wan paled a little. “We, uh…borrowed it.”

“From _who_ , the Queen of Naboo?”

“Um…there were some visiting diplomats in the area who we didn’t think would miss it, exactly…” He avoided Anakin’s eyes, blush rising in his cheeks. “I mean, we were only gone for an hour or so, tops.”

Anakin was laughing outright now—he couldn’t help it. Obi-Wan Kenobi, stealing other people’s ships for joyrides? Crash-landing them with other initiates? Getting into fights?

Obi-Wan cringed. “You don’t…need to tell anyone about this, right, Master Skywalker? I mean, I can’t imagine it would matter much now, given that I’m off to—”

Anakin snorted, and Obi-Wan stopped short. “While you were at it, you should’ve stolen one of the _really_ nice ships. You been in the Senate hangar bay? Now _that’s_ where you’ll find some real luxurious cruisers. I know a guy with a CR90 Corellian corvette, and man…those dual turboblasters…”

Obi-Wan looked a bit guarded, likely still fearing he’d be in trouble. But he was leaning forward now, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Plus, the CR90 goes 950 kpm at top speed. Not to mention the Class 2 hyperdrive. I’ve never flown one myself, but…”

“You’re missing out, then,” Anakin said, thinking of the time Bail Organa had let him twirl doughnuts in the sky above his apartment. “Maybe I’ll talk Yoda into getting one for the Order, what do you think?”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Right, because you can entice Master Yoda with hyperdrive stats.”

“You never know. I’ve always suspected the little frog’s a speed demon.”

Obi-Wan covered his mouth as he laughed.

“But you know…” Anakin continued. “I’ve always preferred the one-person fighters over a lux ship like the corvette. In something like a Delta-7…”

“…or an Eta-2,” Obi-Wan added, nodding, “it feels like it’s just—”

“—you and the stars.”

He and Anakin finished the phrase in unison. They turned to stare at each other, and Anakin was struck by how he felt so wholly, undeniably understood.

“You’re alright, Initiate Kenobi,” he said at last. “I don’t know what I expected…but you’re really alright.”

Obi-Wan beamed, and for some reason, the expression reminded him of Ahsoka. How the tiniest bit of praise would make her luminous, even when she tried to hide it. Not for the first time, the loss of his Padawan stabbed him, but there was another feeling there too. Something warm. Something right.

It was then that Anakin realized it—that there was a chance they’d never figure out what caused this. That Obi-Wan would stay a kid, with no memory of anything since he was 12-years-old. And if that was the case…it pained him to think what might happen to him. Would he still be sent away? Or, if he was trained, by some strange master who wasn’t Qui-Gon Jinn? Would he be sent to the frontlines of the war, only to fall on the battlefield? The possibilities spun in Anakin’s head, and somehow, he felt responsible. This was _Obi-Wan_ , his master, his best friend. They had to stay together—they always did.

And then, it occurred to him.

If Obi-Wan was going to be trained…

“Skywalker. Kenobi.”

Anakin’s thoughts were interrupted as Mace Windu strode into the room, and he and Obi-Wan stood. Obi-Wan positioned himself beside Anakin and just a step behind—the Padawan’s place, Anakin thought vaguely.

Master Windu looked a bit worse for wear and, Anakin noticed, he was returning alone. But though his expression was grim, it wasn’t desperate.

“You succeeded, then,” Anakin said. “Is the Chancellor…?”

“The threat was neutralized,” he said, watching young Obi-Wan as he carefully chose his words. In his eyes, he asked Anakin a question: _how much did you tell him?_ “The…imposter has been destroyed.”

Anakin exhaled. So Chancellor Palpatine was dead. His mentor, his friend, and the only person who could save Padmé.

So…why didn’t he feel despair?

There was a twinge of guilt there. Maybe some regret, that he hadn’t made the realization sooner. But Anakin inexplicably felt lighter than he had in…maybe years. Could it be possible that the Sith had caused so much of his turmoil all this time?

Anakin looked from Obi-Wan to Master Windu and back again.

“So, what happens now?”

Master Windu didn’t speak for a long time. He looked at the empty seats around him, out the window at the Senate building of a broken Republic, at the young man before him and still the younger one besides, and he exhaled.

“Now,” he said at last, “is the time for new beginnings.”

—

As always, the dream began with Padmé’s pained face.

“ _Anakin, please…help me. Help me!”_

_There was sweat on her brow, her face furrowed as an infant cried somewhere out of sight. And as always, Anakin was frozen. He watched from above as she struggled, and he did not move. Did not move, did not breathe, did not dare believe it was only a dream, because if it wasn’t. if it wasn’t…_

_Padmé exhaled sharply and looked up at him, wiping the sweat from her face._

_“I’m serious. Help. Don’t you hear Leia crying?” she snapped. “Either go get her before she wakes Luke, or deal with…” She gestured at the plastic parts lying around her—the pieces to a changing table. “…this.”_

_For the first time, the dream image wasn’t fuzzy. He could see the room around them clearly—their apartment. Their bedroom, where two cradles were set up by the window. Padmé sat on the floor, her hair pulled into a messy bun—a rare sight—as she tried to connect the legs of the changing table to the base. It collapsed almost instantly, and strain again flickered across her face._

_Anakin slowly crossed the room, feeling disconnected to his body but strangely solid. He approached the cradles, where he saw two little sleeping forms, and leaned down over the crying child—Leia._

_His…his daughter._

_He felt his throat tense up as he reached for her. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, my love.”_

_She was beautiful. Soft and small and beautiful, and_ theirs _._

He wished the image didn’t start to fade away as, for the first time in ages, Anakin woke without a shudder.

He wasn’t in Padmé’s apartment anymore, but his bed at the Jedi Temple. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes, sprawled out over top of the sheets with one leg and arm hanging off the side. He sat, rubbing at his face and trying to wrap his mind around all he’d just seen.

_Leia. Luke, Padmé…me._

_Together._

_She’s okay. We’re okay. We’re…_

The relief was enough to fill his eyes with tears, and though no one was around to see them, he scrubbed them away. She wasn’t going to die. She wasn’t going to leave him. He flopped back into the sheets and stared up at the ceiling, thanking the Force or whatever entity might be able to hear him, because _Padmé wasn’t going to leave him._ Not now. Not today.

He was brought back to his senses by the realization that something in his bedroom was flashing. There was a light on his comm, indicating a new message since he’d last been awake. Thinking it might be from Padmé _,_ he reached for it, swinging his legs over the side to sit on the edge of the bed. But the voice that spoke wasn’t Padmé’s at all.

_“Hey, Skyguy.”_

His breath caught in his throat.

_“I know it’s the middle of the night on Coruscant,”_ Ahsoka said. _“But something’s come up, and…well, I wanted to tell you before I made it official.”_

She was dressed the same as he’d last seen her—civilian clothes, though her lightsabers hung at her hip. He remembered how his eyes had burned while he tinkered with them, wondering if the action was in vein. _She may never come back,_ his mind had told him again and again.

_She has to,_ his heart said in reply.

 _“The war will be over in a matter of days, and I was just thinking about Rex and…and all of the clones._ _They need citizenship, and homes, and lives after this. And they need rights. Rights they should’ve had from the beginning, but the Senate was too busy dealing with the war to care. They’re going to need somebody who can fight for them, this time,”_ she said, _“instead of fighting alongside them on the battlefield.”_

Anakin felt his throat go tight. Of course. Of course, she would find a way to help their men. She loved every one of them so fiercely, as he did, and he knew if anyone could champion their rights, it would be Ahsoka.

But that meant…

_“I’ve met some people who want to help,” she continued, and briefly looked away as if meeting someone else’s eyes. “There’s some young people here on Mandalore who have been working for peace for years. They want to extend that effort offworld—to the whole Republic, if we can, starting with the clones._

_“Korkie Kryze is one of them, if you remember him. Lux Bonteri, too. Between their influence in politics and my and Rex’s experience in the field, we’ve got a good team.”_ She smiled a little, and his heart panged at the thought of another team— _their_ team, he and Ahsoka and Obi-Wan—now scattered to the wind. _“And there’s Padme, of course, and Bail Organa… We have allies. I think we can do this. It’s…it’s calling to me, Master.”_

 _Master_. He was thankful she couldn’t see how the word made his face crumble and his heart ache.

She paused, and for a moment he thought she was going to end the transmission. But then she looked up and found his eyes again, as if she really could see straight through them.

_“Anakin…”_ she said, smiling sadly. _“Thank you. For all you’ve taught me.”_

As the image flickered out, he stared at the empty space and shook his head.

“No,” he whispered to the empty air. “For all you’ve taught _me.”_

He imagined the words finding her, his breath crossing the galaxy to wherever she might be, and ignored the tears that spilled freely now. She would never be his Padawan again. She wouldn’t be a Jedi.

But she would be Ahsoka, the best thing she could possibly be. She would live the life she was meant to.

Even if that wasn’t with him.

Sleep was officially out of the question. He was both overjoyed and heartbroken, liberated and confused. Padmé was alright. His Padawan wasn’t coming back. The war was over. Palpatine was dead. Obi-Wan was a 12-year-old boy.

_Kriff. A lot can happen in 24 hours, I know, but this is just a new level of ridiculous._

More than anything, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan. That’s what he always did when things reached a new level of ridiculous. It’s what he did even when things were relatively normal, because it was _Obi-Wan_.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t here. They’d arranged the practicalities yesterday—for now, Obi-Wan would stay in the Initiate dorms until the Council figured out what to do with him. Or, more accurately, until they had _time_ to figure out what to do with him. First came the burials of the Jedi who had died confronting Palpatine, Master Windu’s trial in the Senate, the ending of the war. Ahsoka had been right on that account—things were messy, and they needed people to handle the big things.

But right now, Anakin could only think of the little things—and one little thing in particular.

Suddenly, he was getting out of bed.

He made his way through the Temple halls in the dark, passing only nocturnal Jedi and the occasional sleep-walker. He hadn’t been to the Initiate dorms in years—not since he was a boy, now that he thought about it—but his legs carried him there automatically. When he slid open the door, he tracked Obi-Wan by Force signature alone, and the door to his quarters slid open.

Inside, a sleepy Obi-Wan sat up and rubbed his eyes.

It occurred to him briefly that this could have waited until morning. But he’d known yesterday. He’d known the moment he realized Obi-Wan might not go back to the way he was, that they were meant to stay together. He and Obi-Wan were meant to find each other, across any lifetime or world or age. He’d never been more certain about anything in his life.

Obi-Wan pushed back the covers and blinked sleep from his eyes.

“Master Skywalker?” he said. “What are you….? Is there something I can do for you, Master?”

Anakin wanted to laugh as the boy got to his feet, frantically trying to straighten his nightclothes and flatten his hair. It was almost freaky—everything, from how he spoke to how he carried himself, was familiar. And yet, he wasn’t the man Anakin knew. It was like looking at a shrunken copy, or an old hologram. It couldn’t be real.

But this was still Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, who had tucked Anakin into bed, calmed him from nightmares and sang him back to sleep. Had taught him how to read, how to meditate, how to swim. Had guided his lightsaber form, sparring and dueling endlessly for practice. Made him stronger. Made him wiser. Made him better. Made him feel he was loved.

Perhaps now, after all these years, Anakin could return the favor.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin found himself saying. The words that left his mouth hardly felt like his own, and yet the Force was singing as he touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You’re in need of a Master, aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, but he looked down at his feet.

“I…yes, well…I’ve already been sent away, but…”

“It just so happens, then,” Anakin said slowly, “that I’m newly in need of a Padawan.”

At that, Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked up. “You…I…I don’t understand.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi…if you’re willing…” Anakin swallowed. “I would be honored to have you as mine.”

Obi-Wan blinked, as if uncertain he might still be dreaming. The room was dimly lit, and no moonlight shone through the window, but Anakin could see the light in his eyes. Saw them flicker with confusion and then hope and then certainty and then, finally, joy.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Yes…Master.”

For a moment he thought of Ahsoka, how her voice caught when she’d said the same words just a short while ago. He thought of all the times he’d said the same to Obi-Wan, sometimes sincerely and sometimes flippantly, and sometimes with tears in his eyes. It was a title he had loved and a title he had hated. A title, after Ahsoka, he had almost not wanted to hear ever again.

But now it had never felt more right.

He tried to stifle it, but Anakin caught the yawn behind Obi-Wan’s hand and he smiled. When he asked if Obi-Wan had been dreaming of star skiffs and Corellian corvettes, the smile on the boy’s face was so familiar and so warm that it seemed to echo through time. It rippled through every divide between them, through every ache they’d ever endured, and healed something inside that Anakin didn’t even know was broken.

He began the small braid in Obi-Wan’s hair, and he smiled.

Because, in spite of everything, the second-worst day of Anakin Skywalker’s life had also turned out to be his best.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never done something like this before, but I had a lot of fun with it! Also, oh my god you guys—I know NOTHING about sw spacecraft. I was on Wookieepedia for a RIDICULOUS amount of time trying to write that little dialogue exchange about piloting and I’m sure I still managed to get things wrong. So if we’ve got any starship experts out there, please correct me, I’m begging you.
> 
> Anyway, THANK YOU FOR READING!!! Comments and kudos always appreciated 😊 
> 
> My star wars tumblr: [ kckenobi ](https://kckenobi.tumblr.com/)


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